A Way Home
by Della-Avril
Summary: Finally she had several trustworthy ministers in her court, finally she and Keiki had started to understand each other, and finally she felt like it was possible that she might not fail in her duties as an empress. But did any of that really matter now? She was stuck in Hourai, unsure of how it happened and unsure of how she would get back. Relative K
1. I

She couldn't open her eyes.

She found that the harder she struggled to open them, the heavier that they became. Muffled and distorted voices murmured in concerned, hushed tones around her. She felt weighted down, drowned, submerged underneath the surface, close enough to see brilliant sunlight floating on top yet too far down to reach it. Her body was cold and unresponsive to her mind's pleas for movement. However Yoko _knew_ that she had to move, that she had to respond. Yoko didn't know why she had to or even why she felt so horrible to begin with, but nevertheless there was a quiet, nagging voice inside her that was egging her to sit the hell up..

_Your Majesty…_

Keiki?

Her eyes opened like broken blinds, slow and utterly painful to actually release. It was the sound of her taiho's voice that had forced her towards the surface. Was Keiki here? He had sounded distressed, as if something was very wrong.

Well, more distressed than usual. He honestly never had anything positive to add to any sort of conversation, whether it was about the soup, the weather, or her own coronation ceremony. Yoko wondered what he wanted _now_. He only ever entered her sleeping chambers unless it was something of the utmost importance. And for such a stoic, uptight, and formal Kirin who predicted the downfall of Kei if her headdress wasn't tied properly, it had to be one hell of an emergency for him to _enter her bedchambers while she was asleep_.

"Keiki…" She mumbled into the long silk sleeve of her imperial robe.

Imperial robe?

The numbness that had before dominated her body started to fade, and her vision began to regain focus. Her garb was thoroughly drenched and utterly freezing, and her wild red locks blanketed her upper back in thick, cold throngs. Cold, dark raindrops pelted her like balls of leads. Miraculously the small, bejeweled headdress that Keiki had allowed for her to wear in place of the usual, headache-inducing crown that morning had stayed in tact, hanging limply around her neck by its tie like some gaudy secondhand necklace.

Yoko was curled in a ball on her side on the disgusting, peeling metal floor of what she guessed to be a small boat.

What in the world had happened, why was she so soar, and where was she?

The Kei-ou groaned as she gently lifted her head, her soar neck muscles arguing with her all the while from the strain. She had been correct in her guess. Yoko lay on the deck of a large boat, which from the constantly ringing of buoys, grunts of machinery, and murmur of voices from below was anchored at port. She was surrounded by the motley crew, all of whom were staring down at her as if she had fallen right out of the sky.

Understanding how shoku worked, Yoko assumed that she probably had.

Her emerald eyes narrowed as she pushed her hair out of her face, observing the men and the boat. They did not wear the simple robes of her people's fishermen, and the design of the shape was well past the maturity of Kei's. So she was back in Hourai once more…

Yoko stole a glance down at the fine, glossy crimson, gold, white robes she had been so ceremoniously draped in that morning and consciously touched her alarmingly bright red hair. The tips of her delicately beaded silken copper slippers peeked out from their lustrous blankets. The small, golden headdress smothered with precious gems hung limply from her neck, accompanied with the large, glimmering gold necklaces that went with the ensemble. The huge, shining green jewel of a ring that Shoryuu had given her had somehow managed to remain attached to her left thumb. Here she laid in all her glory after falling out of the sky during a rainstorm.

Dear God, they probably thought she was a fallen angel or something.

Judging from the shocked, wary, and distrustful looks of the sailors surrounding her, there was no easy way to get out of this one. Her hand instinctively went to her back, where she felt Suiguu hiding underneath her garb, much to her relief. But she couldn't fight these men. That would only cause more trouble for her, and they hadn't harmed her in any way. She could just see the headlines of the morning paper running through her mind: DEMONIC RED-HEAD FROM SKY SLAUGHTERS BRAVE SAILORS.

There was only one way out of this.

"W-where am I?" She croaked, and she laid a graceful hand on her forehead. The men around her exchanged bewildered glances.

Amnesia.

"Who are you? Why aren't I in school? What's going on?" Yoko said, forcing her voice to crack, as if in desperation and fear. She met the eyes of the sailor in front of her.

"Why am I here? Where's my mom?" She whispered, looking down at her hands. She looked up again for a split second, and after seeing the man's features soften slightly, began to cry.

"We have to get her to the hospital… Kyo, call the police and let them know!"

"Ay, she could be hurt…"

"Where did she come from?"

"Don't worry lass, we'll get you back home."

"We'll get you to your mother, girlie."

The crew began to disperse, and two men came to her side, helping her stand. Their hands were surprisingly gentle for the rough an' tumble stereotype of a sailor that she had always been presented with. Maybe they were still in shock.

"The hospital and police will find out what happened to you." One of the men mumbled, smiling as he rested her arm on his shoulder. He was happy that he wouldn't be the one to have to deal with this strange girl. Yoko nodded limply and leaned on him, letting him lead her towards a crude plank that would take them off the ship.

* * *

"And with further news it was confirmed this morning that Yoko Nakajima, the young girl who was abducted right from her own classroom three years ago, was found safe and sound last Monday in the most mysterious of circumstances." The air-brushed, beautiful reporter spoke to the camera, her large coal eyes wide and mischievous. Her male counterpart, a tall, dark, and handsome thirty-something year old man in a tailed pinstripe suit, chuckled from across the desk. The scene flashed to a helicopter'_s_ view of the ship that Yoko had been found on.

"Late last Monday evening, members of the _Matsuri_ had the scare of their lives." The female reporter's voice narrated smoothly over the scene of crewmembers going about their business on deck.

"It was unbelievable; I don't even know what to think of it myself." The camera focused in on one of the men who had driven Yoko to the hospital. "We had just finished with sorting our catch, when Shinji," he jabbed his thumb to a young teen waving in the background," started yelling and pointing up at the sky and saying that there was this red _something_ falling. Now there was an awful storm going on, so we all thought it was the light of a plane or helicopter or something until _she_ hit the deck." He paused, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.

"What did she look like?"

"Oh, she was gorgeous herself, though her hair was this crazy red, but what she was wearing… it was something you'd expect the emperor to have! Maybe even better! I haven't seen anything life it before!" The man exclaimed, waving his arms in the air. Shinji came up to stand behind the man, wanting to get in on the limelight.

"She was wearing the most beautiful silk robes you've ever seen, and the craftsmanship was perfect! They were beautiful but so... so..." Shinji paused, looking for the right word, "feudal. It was like she had stepped out of an old painting or something. Her slippers - she was wearing ornamental slippers, ha! - were just as beautiful. But the jewelry she had on…" His breath caught in his throat. "The jewelry was just something else. Solid gold, better than 14-karat no doubt. She had this weird necklace, too, that was covered in gems… sapphires, emeralds, rubies, diamonds, the works." Shinji breathed over the older man's shoulder, who nodded in agreement

"Shinji's right. And you know what? She didn't even notice any of it, she just sat there in the rain and stared at us like a frightened rabbit. She had no idea where she was or where she had been when we asked her." He paused before looking up at the sky, as if it would give him an answer. The camera followed his gaze into the unsettlingly dark clouds.

"I wonder what happened to her."

The image was cut off, and suddenly the camera was back on the two reporters at their flashy, metal desks, expertly designed green screen backgrounds and all. The male reporter smiled gallantly at the camera.

"There have been quite a few theories discussed that try to uncover what had happened to Yoko Nakajima after she was abducted." He said calmly, folding his long, manicured hands on the desk.

"Oh, do tell." The woman said with a curious gaze.

"Well," he said, pausing as if it were a great secret. "Some say that she was kidnapped to be the bride of a yakuza boss." He laughed, raising his eyebrows suggestively. The female reporter shook her head. "I doubt even the yakuza have enough money to pay for the jewelry she was wearing. Our station was informed that the bejeweled necklace our sailors were talking about actually turned out to be a headpiece of some sort worth over five billion yen. And that was just the headpiece!" The reporter exclaimed. The other whistled lowly.

"The other hypothesis is that Yoko Nakajima was spirited away to become the wife… of a god." The male reporter said quietly, a devilish smirk on his lips. The female reporter frowned slightly. Now he was just being stupid. The network wouldn't be happy with their unprofessional discussion.

"I suppose anything's possible. Hopefully Nakajima-san will regain her memories soon so we can –"

The small television that sat perched on the wall shut off a 'click'. Yoko sighed and leaned back into the stiff hospital pillows, closing her eyes and savoring the small piece of solitude. Things were getting crazier and crazier and showed no signs of letting up anytime soon.

After Yoko had been taken to the hospital and she had

had to give her name, all hell had broken loose. Yoko Nakamjima? The nurses had asked. Wasn't she the girl that had been kidnapped from her classroom so many years ago?

With a sample blood test it was confirmed that she was indeed _that_ Yoko Nakajima, whose disappearance had apparently been the favorite child of the media and unsolved crime television shows for months as investigators desperately searched for the stolen good girl. With a picture of her mother's tear-stricken face buried into Yoko's hair as she hugged her newfound daughter on the front pages of newspapers across Japan, the name "Yoko Nakajima" had become frighteningly well known.

Suddenly the Nakajima Abduction case was back in full throttle, and the public demanded to know what had happened to the girl with strange colored hair three years ago. Yoko herself was no help, according to the psychiatrists who had examined her. It was post traumatic stress disorder, they claimed. She was blocking out all of the painful memories of her awful, horrible ordeal with her captor, who had stolen her right from her desk at school, leaving blood and destruction in his wake. She had to stay in the hospital for a while longer, they claimed.

Who was this man, the public cried? Was he affiliated with yakuza or a sick feudal fetish cult? Was he a rapist or a human trafficker? Was he even from their country? Or was he even human, some groups mumbled? The thought that Yoko Nakajima's captor was a god or a messenger of the gods was brushed away, but not as quickly as it usually would have been thanks to the odd circumstances of her reappearance. Though most people overlooked the claim of Yoko "falling from the sky" onto the ship as wildly exaggerated rumors, their curiosity was peaked. Just what had happened to Yoko Nakajima? Perhaps she actually had stolen the interest of the gods, if there even were any.

She had tried to give an accurate enough picture of Keiki to soothe their worries and at least alleviate some suspicions. The man who had kidnapped her wore all black all the time, had long, white blonde hair that practically fell to his knees and beautiful violet eyes.

"Beautiful?" The police officer asked as he scribbled down her description.

"Yes, beautiful." Yoko mumbled, her cheeks turning pink. The officer shrugged.

"Well, thanks for your help Nakajima-san. Please feel better and let us know if you remember anything." The officer grunted, picking himself up out of the uncomfortable armchair in her room. Yoko smiled her thanks as he turned to leave, giving her a staunch bow before closing the door to her room.

There had been police, psychiatrists, psychologists, reporters, photographers, and family members she hadn't known that she had coming in and out of her room nonstop in the past five days. It was a wonder that she had been able to hide Suiguu from them all this time. Bending over the side of the bed, she pulled the Water Monkey sword from its hiding place underneath the soft, downy padding that served as her mattress on the immoveable hospital bed. Even though she was in the hospital for observation, there was no camera observing her. Every hour or so a nurse or physician would check on her, but that was the extent of it. She figured she had at least a half hour until the next check in.

Running her fingers over the cool, carved metal sheath Yoko sighed in relief. The mere touch of her sword calmed her. She frowned. It was amazing how on edge she had become. But that was logical, wasn't it? After all, she was away from her kingdom.

And she needed to get back to Kei.

Things had just started to be put into their place, and now she was stuck in Hourai? What luck! She could just scream in exasperation. Finally she had several trustworthy ministers to help her, finally she and Keiki had begun to relatively understand each other, and finally she had felt like it was possible that she might not fail in her duty as an empress.

And now this.

Unsheathing her blade from its sheath, Yoko took a deep breath and urged it to show her a vision of her Kirin. She had wanted to eavesdrop on her court for awhile now, but had never found time to do so with all the fuss that everyone had been making over her. It was about 10:30 pm now, visitors' hours had ended at 9:00 pm, though the officer had received special permission to stay after. Good riddance. She had better things to do then answer his dead-end questions.

The silver metal of the blade suddenly changed into a moving picture, and Yoko hunched over to get a closer look at its vision. There, sitting at his writing desk in his solitary chambers, was Keiki. His stoic features were illuminated by candlelight, and behind him moonlight spilled into the otherwise unlit, dark room. He sat straight and perfectly still, not moving an inch, as if he feared that he would scare off the little light allotted to him by doing so. His gaze remained directed towards his desk, stacks of unfinished paperwork glaring defiantly back at him. Yoko stared at him, her heart wrenching. His pen remained still in his hand for several moments and he stared down at the document. Her throat dried when she saw his shoulders begin to shake slightly, as if he were trying to hide his sadness from the darkness itself.

And suddenly, the royal documents were stained by several tears. Yoko couldn't bite back her sob.

"Keiki! Keiki, oh, Keiki!" She cried, clutching the blade as if it would allow her a way to the taiho if she held it tight enough. A small trickle of blood dripped her hand, staining her hospital gown with drops of crimson. She'd think up a good excuse to tell the nurse later. Right now, there was only...

"Keiki!" She sobbed, throwing the sword by her feet, unable to bear it any longer, and too late to see the Kirin suddenly jump out of his seat, eyes wide and chair thrown back. He took a step backwards, looking back and forth around the chamber.

"Shu-jou…?"


	2. II

Never had he never known what to do next.

Sure, there were moments when he wasn't _entirely_ certain, but even then he still had an inkling of what to do. But lately he had been at a complete loss of what was going on and how he was going to get through it. How anyone was going to get through it, for that matter. Enki and Shoryuu looked no more certain than he did. The two stared at their fingertips rather than bothering to meet his gaze during a conversation and seemed almost hesitant to bring up the subject. Keiki could scoff at the obsurdity. The En-Ou and En Taiho, hesitant?

It was enough to make him even angrier then he already was.

"You understand what it is we must discuss." Keiki finally spoke up, breaking the ice. Shoryuu nodded, remaining silent. The air between them stayed still for another moment.

"Then you must know that Kei holds En responsible. As such-"

"Wait, _what?_" Enki snapped, his attention caught. Keiki eyed him a moment before nodding an affirmative.

"And what does Kei deem as acceptable as compensation for a lost ruler?"

* * *

They had been having a rather – how she would've described it as- fun day. They had been invited to En by the En-Ou and En Taiho to speak of possible trade policies between En and Kei in the future and then to picnic in one of En-Ou's apparent favorite spots below the sea of clouds. Her Majesty had, of course, immediately responded with a "Yes of course, right away, I'd love to be there!" before he or anyone else could be notified (an undoubtedly premeditated choice), much to his chagrin.

Keiki was under the impression that his queen and the En king were getting too close.

They had at first become friends, and that was appropriate.

Then they had become good friends.

Still appropriate.

Then really good friends.

... appropriate...

Then his queen and "Shoryuu", as she oh-so familiarly called him, were great friends and corresponding every day. He found it tolerable but also slightly irritating. And then, when the En-Ou had been visiting Goldenwave Palace several weeks before Her Majesty's current predicament, Keiki had caught the older man giving _his_ queen a _look_. And in no way did Keiki find _that_ acceptable.

In fact, if Keiki had had the power to do so, he would have promptly dismissed "Shoryuu" and "Rokuta" from Her Majesty's presence forever and then would have tried to console her. Because she would be distressed. And for some reason, the idea that she would cry over those lost friendships hurt him more then he was willing to discuss.

But there he had been on the terrace of Shadowlore Palace, standing by the intricately etched stone railing that overlooked the sea of clouds, forcing himself to stare into the waves below and ignore the soft murmur of conversation and laughter from the two emperors. Relaxed in luxurious sunlight, the veranda, though less decorated and made up than other parts of the castle, had a beautiful glow to it.

Keiki glanced at them and then back at the calm body of the water.

Not appropriate.

"Oi, Keiki, you okay?" Enki piped up, sitting on the railing a little ways away from the brooding storybook creature.

"I am well, thank you." Keiki replied tersely without looking away from the water, an edge to his usual deadpan. Enki quirked an eyebrow. He didn't believe the other kirin for one second. It was one thing for Keiki to look like his puppy had been kicked, but it was another for him to look like his puppy had been kicked _with malicious intent_.

If it had been anyone else Enki would've attempted to delve a little deeper, but then this was Keiki. He knew Keiki well enough, but definitely not well enough to play psychiatrist, a game that he and Keiki's masters had recently begun to enjoy among themselves. In fact, Shoryuu and Yoko had been seeing an awful lot of each other lately and only seemed to be getting closer and closer. That also meant that he and Keiki would be seeing an awful lot of each other… and would be getting closer and closer? Enki weighed his options. It _would_ make all of these visits a lot less awkward.

"Hey, Keiki, I-" Rokuta began, turning to face the other kirin… who had promptly decided to walk away towards Shoryuu and Yoko.

"Keh," Enki snorted inelegantly, swinging back around to dangle his legs over the railing, kicking in the breeze.

Stupid uptight prick.

Keiki could get stuck in a well, see if he cared.

He turned from the supposedly "calming power" of the azure waves to glare at the neighboring kingdom's kirin. No. He _definitely_ wouldn't be pulling Keiki from a well anytime soon.

"Your Majesty," the infamously stern taiho said, bowing respectfully first to Yoko and then, with what an onlooker could describe as with a slight hesitation, to Shroryuu.

"What is it, Keiki?" Yoko asked, still recovering from a bout of laughter. Shoryuu looked no better. Keiki was not amused.

"Your Majesty, we must return to Kimpa Palace shortly. There are matters that can no longer be neglected." Keiki replied, the same edge that Enki had identified in his voice present.

Yoko pursed her lips into a tight line. "Yes, but if they've waited this long surely they can stand to wait for another night. En-Ou and I are in the middle of a wonderful conver-"

"I fear that we have overstayed our welcome, Your Majesty."

Yoko sent Keiki a surprised but nevertheless fierce glare. The Ever-King laughed, shaking his head. "What's gotten into your head, Taiho? If I didn't want either of you here anymore I would've let you know by now." He grinned, friendly grabbing Yoko's shoulder. Yoko grinned back. Keiki's eyes narrowed.

Just as he was about to make a comment on being _perfectly able_ to read social cues, he felt _it_.

* * *

Her room hadn't really changed from the day that she had been "abducted" by Keiki. Okay, so technically Keiki _had_ really kidnapped her (in a way that made national news for weeks)… but she didn't think of it like that now, anyways. The walls were still that diluted pink color from the end of sixth grade, the bed was still covered by her colorful patchwork quilt, and the posters and pictures on the walls were untouched. Yoko wondered for a moment if her mother still had the last episode of the miniseries she had asked to be recorded before she had been taken by her kirin. The thought somehow made her feel even worse.

She stepped onto the worn magenta rug, run thin from years of being prodded over by familial feet, realizing just how shabby the material was as compared to the imperial palace. How small the room was, how little the bed… how deflated the pillow. But that was, of course, to be found when compared to an imperial palace of any sorts.

"Yoko dear," Her mother said softly from her door, watching her daughter with large eyes. Yoko looked over her shoulder, forcing a small smile.

"It's still the same after these three years." She said, not missing the melancholy in her voice. Her mother's smile broadened. It was a sad smile, a bittersweet smile.

"Oh course it is, dear. We wouldn't have changed it for the world!" Her mother cooed, taking a few steps forward to stand next to Yoko. Her expression changed slightly, her smile faltered. "We've been through a lot these past years… we've missed you so much. You've been through so much, you don't look yourself dear." Her mother's voice faded to barely above a whisper, as if she were afraid any louder tones would scare Yoko off.

Yoko couldn't help but dryly laugh at the irony of her words. "I _have_ been through a lot these three years." She agreed. If only her mother knew.

"But no more sadness! You're safe and sound with us, forever and ever!" Her mother, who now looked nothing similar to Yoko, exclaimed as she pulled her daughter in for a warm hug. Yoko stood stiffened as her mother's arms enveloped her, cutting deeper than any knife or dagger ever could. Her mother, thinking Yoko's sudden bout of cold feet was due to something else, began to coo in her year.

"Oh, my poor baby girl… my poor baby…" She sighed, running her hand through Yoko's outstandingly red hair. Yoko found she couldn't return her mother's hug.

* * *

He sat down again, across from Shoryuu in the stony silence the room had acquired once Keiki had finished. Rokuta shuffled uncomfortably in his seat next to the Kei kirin while Shoryuu massaged the bridge of his nose. The inner turmoil that Keiki was undoubtedly going through was unimaginable, and Shoryuu found that he wasn't as surprised as he was unsettled by Keiki's outburst. He had seen Keiki when he was complacent, irritated, anxious, and upset , emotions that were usually elicited from a fledging kirin-master relationship; neither knew how it was going to work out, both were extremely stressed most of- _all_ of the time, while an unselfish devotion floated through the cracks. Shoryuu smirked slightly. He made the bond sound less affluent than it actually was.

He had never, not once, seen Keiki so _vehemen_t before. It just didn't happen. Keiki was more of a publicly-brood-with-a-dissapointed-look-to-make-everyone-feel-guilty-and-question-themselves type of guy when angry and rarely, if ever, changed his facial expression. To Shoryuu, when Keiki did have a change of emotion it was evident in his tone of voice. For him it was a big deal to watch Keiki's expression change from serious and disimpassioned to serious and stoic, two states of mind that just made him _oh so easy_ to read. But the way his violet eyes had lit up when he spoke of Yoko, the harsh octaves his voice switched to and from, and the elaborate and violent hand gestures that Keiki had thrown around had floored Shoryuu. And after being around for a couple hundred years, nothing surprised him anymore…Well, excluding the sight of the Kei-kirin throwing a temper tantrum.

What made it worse was that Enki looked like he was agreeing with Keiki, as if all of this was their entire fault. Or, rather, _his_ entire fault since kirin had that weirdo bromance thing going on, making it impossible for Enki to harm Keiki, thus shifting all the blame on him. But it wasn't his fault, Shoryuu hadn't planned for this to happen. How in God's name was it even possible for a shoku to form in the sea of clouds? Just imagining the damage done to - below made him want to groan and throw his own temper tantrum.

The whole thing was going to cost a hell of a lot of money, money that would undoubtedly also be spent on repairs of the imperial city below the sea of clouds. Hopefully a fourth of it still remained; shoku were treacherous, merciless beasts. And hadn't he already invested enough gold and silver into Kei that, if they lived in Hourai, his ministers would've accused him of attempting to buy the throne? And now Keiki wanted him to whole-heartedly agree with some crazy look in his eye, shake his fist up at the sky, and start shouting how they would not rest until she was found again? No, it just couldn't work that way.

Now Shoryuu liked Yoko, cared for her even. She was an interesting, intelligent, pretty girl who he wouldn't have minded courting had she not been deemed Empress of Kei. He did not intend for Kei to fall to ruin again or for her to be stranded in Hourai or – or wherever else Tentei had decided she could end up. He really didn't. He wanted to help.

The entire ordeal was horrific, a tragedy. But it was also a tragedy of _Kei_, not En, and for Keiki to demand so much really just wasn't going to work. And what was he planning to do, anyways? En-Ou stole a glance at the Kei kirin who sat so ungodly still and ramrod straight in his chair, totally absorbed in his own thoughts. It had been five days since Yoko's disappearance, and the first day that Shoryuu had seen Keiki since.

"You must do this." The kirin spoke again, quieter this time, much more in control. Shoryuu sighed, leaning his forehead against his folded hands.

"You ask, no, demand to borrow _half_ of the Imperial Army of En _and_ their steeds to disappear into Kei with absolutely no promise of reimbursement, no defined plan of action, no word except 'give me your men' and expect me to agree? And then, should you require his services, you insist that Enki go to Hourai for an unknown period of time?" Shoryuu said, pausing to cast a glance at the aforementioned kirin. "I understand that this is an _extremely _diffic-"

"_You fail to do so_."

"- an unimaginably, horrendously difficult time, but that is out of the question. What do you plan to with such a large force? What, or _who_, do you face that requires the joint imperial forces of Kei and En? And while Enki visits Hourai on occasion, I will not have my kirin leave my court for Hourai without knowing what he is doing and when he will return." Shoryuu's voice was low, his eyes slightly narrowed.

He wanted to help Keiki.

He wanted to help Yoko.

He wanted to help Kei.

But to him the entire scenario was a bad omen in itself. The unnatural sea of clouds shoku, Yoko "falling" into the shoku like some sort of damsel, Keiki's uncharacteristic behavior and demands, the rumors of the court never having been told of their empress' disappearance…

Something was going on. Something had been figured out, determined. But what?

"Keiki," Shoryuu began, his eyes narrowing into a glare. Keiki met Shoryuu's gaze evenly, his eyes on fire. En-Ou sighed. "Just what do you know?"

_Sorry for the lack of Yoko in this chapter, but I just had to mention how things were going back home! Enki and Keiki are the best, aren't they? Thanks to everyone for reviewing the first chapter, it really means a lot and keeps me motivated to write the next one! So, in case you didn't pick up on the hint... keep reviewing! ;) You guys are awesome! Next time the chapter will be Yoko-centric, and she might be going back to school! Or not. I have a lot planned for this story, it's so fun to write. Sorry for the long update wait! Ill do my best to make it a little quicker._

_Until next time!_

_- Della_


	3. III

The realization of just how easily she could fall back into her old schedule was startling. Downright weird, if you wanted to look at it in another way.

Her alarm was set for six in the morning, and after allowing herself to lay in bed for a few extra minutes, Yoko finally managed to trudge to the bathroom where she washed her face, did her hair, and made herself the presentable school girl that she was still apparently thought to be. Once she finished up there, she would move to put on the average navy and maroon uniform that her mother had set and pressed the night before. Then Yoko would grab her book bag, make her way downstairs, have a small breakfast with her mother while her father took a shower, and after would leave for school. The sheer monotony of it was painful in more ways than one.

Yoko simply couldn't allow herself to begin it all again.

Although she realized how illogical the notion actually was (and she knew illogic by now), she felt that if she so easily fell back into pre-Keiki-Abduction-Tragedy life, she was giving up. She felt that by accepting life in Japan she was forfeiting life in Kei, and that was just something she could never do.

So instead of prettying herself up first thing in the morning, Yoko made her way down to her family's moderately sized kitchen, made a glass of instant tea, and munched on a bowl of cold rice and radish. It was about five after six, a good half hour before either of her parents got up, and Yoko could barely stand the silence. Mornings at Kimpa Palace were hectic, busy, and usually the craziest parts of the day. Her handmaidens could get so excited when it came to her morning attire and literally enjoyed running back and forth from this wardrobe room to that, all in the desperate pursuit of finding the _perfect_ obi that matched her slippers and brought out her eyes.

When she was in a good mood, Yoko let her staff have their fun. When she knew she had a hell of a lot of work to do that day and no idea how to get it done, she asked for the basic courtesan robe… so every day, she asked for the basic courtesan robe. Lately her handmaids had gotten quite savvy and had begun to pretend that they didn't hear her when she said, quite frankly:

"I don't want to wear seven layers today. Give me a female Chousai's attire."

Instead of responding with a simple, easy to muster "Yes, Your Majesty" they suddenly became enamored with the layering of her sleeves or the arrangement of her brooches, which color offset this and _why didn't they think of _that_ color scheme_?

But, those were the more brazen maids who dared to outright ignore a blunt command of the Empress of Kei "for her own good". The others simply ran off into one of her God-knew-how-many wardrobe compartments, pretending to be looking for a set of slippers that just happened to not match her outfit. When a permissible color was finally found and brought out, it was usually deemed "not quite right", prompting another adventurous excursion into her jungle of closets. And away from her protests.

She was the Empress! She really wasn't _that_ stupid.

It was only when Yoko finally had the "audacity" to go into one of her own wardrobe chambers, find a God-awful ugly and not to mention dark kimono that was even plainer than Keiki's, and attempt to put it on herself that her maids had finally allowed her a few casual Fridays.

It was hard to believe that as the ruler of an entire country, she was still ordered around by her handmaids.

And it wasn't as if she was just going to play the whole "I am your master now do as I say" card, she wasn't that cruel! She actually liked the assistants she had, even though their high-pitched voices _could_ be grating early in the morning.

When the problem of her wardrobe was finally taken care of Yoko would leave her chambers for breakfast. Lately she had started to take it with Keiki. He had been the one to bring it up; not only had she been surprised by his offer, but also by the apparent fact that he actually ate. Granted, he did eat like there was someone grading him on proper etiquette and how well he was at making conversation awkward, but he still ate.

"Did you sleep well, Keiki?" She'd always say as they sat down, trying to break the silence.

"With little interruption." He'd say as an attendant poured his tea.

"Oh, did something wake you up?"

"No."

"Right."

…..

And usually, unless Keiki realized that he actually had something to say, their breakfast lapsed into silence. The funny thing about it was that while any attempt at conversation with Keiki was awkward, silence was not. In the past three years Yoko had come to understand that Keiki was a very introverted man, and while he was not afraid to voice his opinions (objections), many times he simply chose not to. He spoke little, but when he did his words carried great weight not only with her, but with all he came in contact with.

After breakfast they would meet Enho in the pagoda for lessons, and then Koukan in the library to look over royal decrees and documents before the mid-morning session with her Court. Koukan and Kantai seemed to get along with Keiki well enough, which for Keiki meant that they were all the best of friends. Suzu was still relatively intimidated by him, Shoukei sometimes ordered him around more than Yoko did, and Koushou spoke to him like was just another guy in the bar. Keiki would usually retaliate against the sometimes crude remarks Koushou threw around by ignoring Koushou for his "redundant display of disrespect towards the Empress and Taiho of Kei".

Yoko always laughed when he said things like that. When you were a pretty man with long, flowing pale hair down to your knees talking about "redundant displays of disrespect", it was hard for most people to take you seriously. Well, it was hard for most people from Hourai to take you seriously. Every time Koushou was caught walking up to Keiki, roughly grabbing his shoulder and giving it a shake while saying something along the lines of "It's my favorite guy!" or "How long has it been since you last saw the sun?!", he was promptly reprimanded by a mortified Suzu, who was then rewarded for her efforts with a stiff glare from Keiki.

Yoko smiled at the memories. She couldn't wait to see them all again. But first things first, she was going to have to-

"Yoko dear, you're up early!"

The kitchen light flicked on above her, filling the room with a dim glow. Yoko blinked at the change, turning to look over her shoulder at her mother. She was already dressed for the day, wearing a skirt and a pretty blouse fit for going out, even though Yoko knew that the most exciting place her mother would be going today was her school. No wonder she was so well done up.

"You're not dressed already?" Her mother asked, making her way to the sink past the glossy table that Yoko sat at. Yoko shook her head.

"I'll get ready in a few minutes. I just wanted to eat first today." She said, quickly realizing the way her words could have been misinterpreted by her mother. And, from the crestfallen look on her mother's face, they had been.

"Er- I'll have breakfast with you tomorrow morning." Yoko said, standing up to bring her dishes to the sink. Her mother brightened up just fine after that.

"Of course you will! Now you go get ready for school, and your father and I will drive you there!"

Usually Yoko would've just walked to the Metro and ridden it to school, but given the publicity Yoko had attracted from just going out to the grocery store last week, and taking in how easily identifiable she was (it was the hair, she was told), it just wasn't a good idea to take public transportation. Seriously, she had only gone to get a quart of milk, and suddenly there were two news reporters following her into the store. She had left with four.

When she had gotten back to her house, there were still four reporters plus two photographers. When had Japan become America?

Though, Yoko couldn't really blame them too much for just trying to get a good story under their belt. From the time she had been kidnapped, "Yoko Nakajima" had become a household name. It someone was talking about an interesting kidnapping plot in a movie, it was "kind of like what happened to Yoko Nakajima". If there were talks of upping school security or downsizing police funds, phrases like "We don't want another Yoko Nakajima again" were thrown around. She had been on almost every unsolved crime, modern mystery, and kidnapped child alert television series out there. Her mother had recorded every single minute of every single one.

Yoko was glad. She liked watching the reenactments of what was said to be her kidnapping, she thought they were hilarious! She, represented as a dainty little schoolgirl with red hair that was a looooooot closer to brown than her own had ever been sat quietly at a school desk, diligently studying to make her parents proud, when she was interrupted by scary, tall man who burst through the door. After a quick, threatening conversation with the oh-so brave teacher, "Keiki" (whose long blonde hair had been subsidized to a short, bleached cut, had the general yakuza tattoos, and who usually had on a combination of a wife beater and cargo pants) texted his friends who suddenly started throwing rocks (or shooting, it depended on the reenactment) through the windows, violently shattering the glass and hurting all innocent bystanders.

The evil man Keiki then scooped up the innocent, small and harmless Yoko into his arms and took off from the school in an ominous black car (or van… again, it depended on the reenactment).

Sometimes, Yoko couldn't just keep herself from laughing!

And then her mother would give her very, very worried looks while her father just stared. Very awkward and strained conversations followed.

So Yoko had taken to stop watching television that was about her.

As she trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, the revelation that she was going back to _school _dawned on her. School, the place where you had to sit for some eight hours a day, followed by three-four hours of optional cram school that was usually necessary to stay up-to-date on college entrance exams and even the coursework of regular school.

How the heck did any of that apply to her at all anymore?

It was all just a horrible waste of time! A chill ran up her spine. That's all she had been doing for the past three weeks she had been stuck here, just wasting time! There were the physician appointments, psychiatrist appointments, psychologist appointments, and each one took a lot longer than Yoko thought was necessary.. The police department always wanted updates from her, her family, and her counselors to see if there was any break through with her amnesia condition – because frankly, "we don't know what happened to Yoko" really wasn't cutting it with the public anymore. Photographers always wanted to get inside to get pictures of her "in a natural, relaxed environment" to show their readers that yes, she was safe and recuperating. But the reporters were in her opinion the worst of the batch, newspaper and television alike.

They never seemed to shut up or notice when they had overstayed their welcome. Not that Yoko's mother or father would ever insinuate that… that was rude. So the job was usually left to Yoko who, channeling back to her time in Kei, would say something alone the lines of "we're done here" or "I've finished with this", stand up, and leave. Not necessarily the most polite way to end a conversation, but an effective one at least.

Their questions sometimes cut too deep. Some of the older, more experienced ones understood and rarely ventured outside of asking her what she remembered happening to her. The younger reporters, the ones who had something to prove, who wanted to be known as the one who got Nakajima to open up, occasionally asked things like "Were you treated inappropriately at any time?". The word itself was never spoken, but the insinuation was always there.

It made her sick.

After a question like that was posed, the interviews were always abruptly ended. The reporters, those smart dogs, had caught on fast enough. Now only the stupid ones asked her things like that. But come to think of it, she would be going back to a place where oftentimes stupidity and ignorance reigned supreme.

Yoko tied the silly red bow on her uniform and threw on the blazer, smoothing down nonexistent wrinkles in her set skirt. She couldn't help but frown at the lack of length Japan's clothing had taken to. It actually made her slightly uncomfortable. Wait, what?

The Queen of Kei, the girl who had been hunted down in the wilderness for months on end surviving on next to nothing while dodging murderous demons, the girl who had to go to a neighboring ruler and had to borrow his army to defeat her own, the girl who had to join a rebellion against one of her own governors to restore peace, was made uncomfortable by the length of her skirt?

Preposterous. She was better than that.

"Yoko, are you coming?"

She was 19 years old, technically, but she still looked 16 and would be starting over her junior year. At least, she surmised, she wouldn't be stuck with the same classmates. She was going to a different school this year, a co-ed school, and its reputation was better than the one she had been at before. The school also had a generous amount of well-trained security guards… a fact that had been very prominent her parents' decision making process, to be sure. Because Yoko's parents were still making those important decisions for her.

"I'll be there soon." Yoko called back down, picking up her back pack, frowning at the weight of it. If only it was filled with Enho's scrolls and her notes, instead of Calculus, Probability and Statistics, and Advanced Human Anatomy Physiology. _She_, for one thing, hadn't signed herself up for any of those classes. But, at the same time, perhaps it was better that her parents had been making all the decisions for her. That way she wouldn't get too reattached to this world.

She couldn't allow herself that luxury, to fall back into the swing of things. She had way too long a road ahead of her.

"Yoko! We're going to be late! Your father's waiting…" Her mother called again from at the bottom of the stairs. Yoko shrugged her backpack over her shoulders and took off down the stairs, meeting her parents at the bottom. She didn't miss the biffed look on their faces when they caught sight of her natural, even brighter red hair, hanging free behind her.

"Oh, you wanted to wear it down today…?" Her mother asked with a small smile. Her father didn't say anything and instead volunteered to pull the car out front. While they stood waiting in the pastel-colored foyer, Yoko's mother turned to her with a sympathetic smile.

"Are you nervous?" She asked quietly. Yoko didn't hesitate.

"No."

The sound of the car horn stopped any further questioning, a good thing too since Yoko's mother had had one of those "I think you're bottling your emotions up in inside and need a catharsis, so let's talk about it" looks creeping over her features. The closest that Yoko would ever come to discussing her experiences with anyone, including her mother, was that yes, Keiki did have long blonde hair. And it was natural… so she assumed.

The drive over was quiet, except for the monotonous radio broadcaster saying something about a bridge nearby being redone. Yoko stared out the window, observing the streets she had grown up on with a new eye. While she had indeed wasted a lot of time these past three weeks, she had at least managed to take a few excursions around Tokyo and, after several hours of thinking, mapping, and planning, she had followed a trail that she had thought to be similar to the trail that Keiki had used to get her from her classroom to the pier three years ago.

Avoiding the part of the pier that she had washed up (or fallen) on in fear of running into one of the bewitched fishermen who had found her, Yoko had taken a good time examining the water and, during a bout of panic and guilt, had even considered jumping into the brine just in case there was a little shoku magic left that would fly her back to the Twelve Kingdoms. Too bad things never worked out so easily. True, she hadn't tried. But she also wasn't stupid.

"Do you have everything you need?" Her father asked, breaking up the family's silent ride. The school came into view, and Yoko recognized it from a visit back in middle school. The pristine, multi-building campus stood out among the Tokyo buildings, even though it was one of the less crowded districts that had few, if any skyscrapers.

"Yes." Yoko replied, still watching the city roll by. She wondered how Keiki would come; by sea, most probably. Perhaps she could set up some sort of sign or message on the beach for when he came... but then, who else would be coming with him? What were the criteria for situations like hers? What scenario was the most likely to unfold?

It was questions like that that made Yoko wish Joyuu would bother to show up. The hinman, one of Keiki's oldest shirei, was bound to have at least some sort of clue. But although the decree to be silent had been long overridden, Joyuu had not made a sound since Yoko's arrival. Yes, she wasn't in any danger here… but he should have at least been there. After calling out to him several times, and then finally demanding an answer (by royal command) and no response, Yoko had come to the conclusion that Joyuu had either been separated from her or suppressed inside of her between the time she left Over There and came Over Here.

"Well, this is it. Are you ready, dear?" Yoko's mother asked with a smile, looking over the shoulder of the passenger seat at Yoko. Yoko forced a stiff smile and a nod. It was best just to get it over with. Schooling was necessary. Her father had demanded that she catch up with her studies as quickly as possible, never mind that she had been gone for three years and apparently had no recollection of what had happened to her.

Typical dads.

Still, it would allow her a chance to use her brain, and her parents had even placed her in an economics class that may come in handy when she could finally get back to managing her country's economy.

Yoko followed her parents into the school, to the office, to the principal's office, and then finally the principal as he led her to her homeroom. Her parents had finally managed to say goodbye, and her father, apparently pleased with her daughter new situation, had given her a firm and assuring grip on the shoulder. Paternal love at its finest.

"So, Nakajima-san," the principal asked as he led her down the hall, their shoes _click-clacking_ on the sparkling floor. Every thing about the school was so clean, so organized, so pristine, so _sterile_ she couldn't help but compare it to a laboratory.

"I hear that you were elected class president many times at your other school." He commented politely, turning to watch her carefully. So this was _that_ Yoko Nakajima…

"Yes, I was." Yoko responded with a slight shrug. She had been the girl who let everyone copy her homework, of course she had been voted class president.

"Hopefully that streak will continue, no?" He asked cheerfully, stopping in front of a one of the closed cherry wood doors, one of the few things that actually gave the school a little bit of warmth and color. She could the teacher going over roll inside.

With a single brisk knock the principal opened the door and stepped inside, smiling over his shoulder at Yoko as if trying to coax her into the room, as if she were afraid. Yoko merely followed him into the room, keeping her shoulders back and her eyes straight forward. When she turned to stand next to the principal and faced the class, a moderate size of about twenty, she wasn't surprised to see the multitude of eyes boring into her.

"Class, please meet your new school mate, Yoko Nakajima." The principal said, motioning towards Yoko. On cue and in unison the class gave a short "Welcome, Nakajima-san" and Yoko bowed politely in turn.

"Would you care to say anything to your new classmates so they can get to know you?" He asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. Yoko forced a smile at the class.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all. I look forward to working with you." Yoko said, spouting off the customary polities that introductions required. She didn't intend on giving them some insider-scoop on what they assumed happened to her, she was sure they had gotten enough bogus hypothesis from the tabloids. The principal, with a fleeting look of disappointment, turned to address the students once more.

"Carry on, students. Study hard." He said before taking his leave, closing the door softly behind him. Yoko watched him until the door closed, and then she turned back to look over her new peers. The room was quiet for a moment. Yoko held her ground. She was queen.

"Ah, Nakajima-san, if you wouldn't mind taking a seat by Izanagi-san, then we'll begin our lesson on derivatives." The professor, a young, tall man with a full head of well-groomed black hair, gestured towards an empty desk in the second row. A slim sixteen year old with light brown hair, Izanagi, waved his hand in the air, a flicker of a smile on his face when their eyes met. Yoko gave him a half-smile as she approached her desk. Although it was true that she couldn't get too attached to anything or anyone in this world, she wasn't going to be outright rude. If she was going to be stuck here, she sure as hell wasn't going to be ostracized.

"Now, we will start with secants and tangents and then move to average and instantaneous rates before we conclude with the definition of the derivative. We know that tangent lines are a graphical representation…" as the young teacher began his lesson, and Yoko and her _peers_ diligently noted equations in their textbooks, Yoko did not miss the glances and odd looks that had been thrown her way (especially from that Izanagi).

It was odd, she understood, to have a new student as infamous as her in their class. It was odd, she understood, for her to be returning to school so quickly after she had come back. It was odd, she knew, to not know the circumstances of her departure and her return. It wasn't hard for her to guess what was going through everyone's minds as they marked the slope of the line.

_So this is Yoko Nakajima._

_So this is the girl who came back._

* * *

_Hello, sorry for the delay. I'm in the thick of championship season and have 3/4 meets over and done with... only one more! Thanks for all the reviews... and keep reviewing! _

_Until next time,_

_Della_


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